Harder by ed cantor

A bit "harder" than my usual, below is the text of one of ed cantor's first attempts at Twitterotica. Enjoy!
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getting on a plane to be teased and tormented and used

arriving to be picked up by you, immediately taken, stuffed with the plug, bound helpless, and taken to where the use REALLY begins

sun so bright after the trip in the trunk, blinking as you guide me in, handcuffed, plugged, gagged

i can see you tormenting me with your desire, blindfolded now, you make me strip and i can't see you, can't know who is there

but you come so close, teasing me once you've got me restrained helplessly immobile, keeping me inches from your thrilling arousal

now totally at your mercy, i groan at the tightness of the ropes, the cursed inflatability of the stretching plug, drooling around the gag

she pulls the blindfold off and, seeing her, despite everything, my body tingles with arousal at her striking and powerful beauty

my admiration is cut short, not just by the ominous surroundings, but by the more more immediate concern about the thin cane you held

my legs are spread wide, ankles held open by the roughly welded spreader bar and its steel shackles, my wrists pulled so high over my head

you move close, a briefly soft touch at my bared chest turns into you marking me with four parallel lines from your sharp fingernails

you are dangerously intimately close to me, i curse my reactions, growing erect as you start surrounding my cock and balls with thin leather

i moan in pain, as you've hung something from my swaying balls now...i look down to see a small empty tin pail

distracted by this new torment, I am shocked to screaming when the thin cane slices across my ass.

and again when you drop some leaden weight into the dangling pail, pulling painfully at me. "that's what happens when you don't thank me"

"thank you?" he stammered, tortured by the way the damned pail was now swinging. "yes, for the kiss of my sweet cane." and again it struck.

there was no point in resisting... "thank you" i gasped. your fingernails dragged down my back. "thanks for what, fucktoy?"

"thanks.. thanks for whipping my ass" i was guessing, in some kind of strange shock." "oh honey, that was just the cane, not the whip...yet"

you kept striking me with the cane, over and over, marking and torturing my ass, my own jerking making the weighted pail swing

but each time, even when reduced to sputtering groans, a strained "thank you" exits my lips

i feel like i'm about to lose consciousness, always waiting for the next strike, when you stop. you set the cane down on a shelf.

to replace it you pick up a wide leather paddle. you walk up in front of me, turning it so i can see all of it. your smile is dangerous.

My breathing coming in ragged panting, i look at it, at you. you use it under me to lift up and display my bound cock and balls to me

my balls, trussed in the thin leather, are red, almost purple, tight, the agony visible... you tease me with those painted talons again

your nails drag up and down the length of me, and you slide the paddle, like you're using a frying pan under me. when you squeeze i scream

you let the paddle down, leaving me at the mercy of the pail again, pulling another groan from me as your heels click behind me again

i'm nearly sobbing, knowing what is coming, and sure enough the paddle slams like like a truck, reigniting the fiery stripes of the cane

you cast a wider spread with the paddle, and soon the whole of my ass as well as the backs of my thighs are burning and glowing red

without being reminded, i am gasping thank you's out to you, even as the pain grows, narrowing my vision to a shadow-framed tunnel

you stop once more... i'm panting, and it takes me a moment to realize it is over, at least for now. you are moving again, arranging things

there is heavy scraping, big things sliding, but all i can do is revel in the reprieve from the paddle. then i feel the edge against my ass.

you've pushed a large, cold metal table up behind me. you free my ankles from the spreader bar. you lower my wrists, still bound together.

you pull me back, onto the table, securing the chain from my wrists somewhere behind my head. laid back, the cold surface is almost soothing

you free the dangling pail from my trussed cock but you do not release it. you pull my legs up, securing each doubled with a buckled strap

you push my frog-tied legs apart and it is the first time i see the ominous strap-on you've affixed to its harness at your hips

the harsh lights above me gleam in the slick coating of lubricant you've already prepared it with. "oh god, please don't, please" i stammer

your smile fades, and my throbbing balls are i your grip "i like the begging, but you're doing it wrong, fucktoy."

"beg me for this, beg me to take you like the dirty whore you are, or you'll feel that whip you were asking about, and i'll skin that ass"

i can tell by the look in your eyes that it is no bluff. i swallow hard, trying to make myself believe this isn't real. "please..."

"please what?" you demand of me. "please.. please use that on me, in me. please, please don't whip me." "slut, you'd better make me believe"

"please, oh god, please... please take me, please fuck my ass, please fuck me, please please take me and fuck my ass please"

i realize i'm nearly screaming. your smile is wickedly crooked. you ease the tip of the purple rubber monster to me, pushing open my rosebud

i groan as the thing pushes into me, even after i'd been stretched by the plug. and then you're really fucking, your hips driving forward.

"keep begging, whore. i know you want it, i know you love it!" "yes, please, please" i'm begging with all that i am as you impale me

the feeling of the thing inside me is completely new, like it is splitting me in half, but also something more

i can feel your pleasure. your bliss and fucking me so full is electric in the room. it isn't just better than the cane, it's something more

but i still blush at the words that are flying from my mouth, from some depraved core of me "fuck me! fuck my ass! fuck me! i need it! fuck"

my head thrown back, your rocking me on the table. my mind is numbed so much that all i can do is repeat "fuck me i'm a whore" over and over

my mind buzzing, and i realize something strange is happening. i'm starting to enjoy this. but how? i look and my cock is rock hard.

it is straining at its bondage, but rigid and upright and its purple head is glistening with precum. "i knew you were a whore, slut."

your smile shames me. my face is burning red. but still you fuck me and still i beg. you grip my shaft, hard. your nails curl around to bite

but still i love it. i want it. i want you to fuck me and stroke me. your touch makes my body electric. i feel like i'm a foot off the table

your hips are rolling, getting your own pleasure from the base of the strap-on, and you are ramming hard into me, but the pain is offset now

my begging is more than real now. i want it. i need it. i crave for you to fuck me, to take me with all you have.

your hand on my cock and your dildo in my ass is making me a pavloviansubject. this pleasure like i've never felt is because i'm yours now.

i'm begging in earnest, my voice almost gone, rasping, "fuck me please, oh god please fuck me, take me, i'm your fucking whore to use"

"tell me you're a whore" you command and i do it, aloud, "i'm a whore!"

"tell me you're a slut" and i scream it "i'm a slut, i'm your slut!"

"tell me all you want is to fucked and beaten and fucked some more, you fucking tramp!" i do, and i am. i am what you are making me.

"yes you are. cum, you ass-fucked whore." and i don't even think, i just explode. cum forcing itself past the bondage, to spurt up my chest

you fuck me a few more thrusts, and the pressure seems to push even more cum from my throbbing cock, you unlace it now, and it is still hard

it is super sensitized from is use and its bondage, my balls feel like theyve been kicked over and over.

i'm still helpless, not that i would have the energy to move if free. your fingers, in rubber gloves, are scooping up the thick white cum.

i'm almost beyond shame, but still i feel this humiliation as you slowly feed me every oozing drop of my own orgasm

once you are satisfied you retreat for a moment. when you return, you're holding a heavy collar, hinged steel, which you lock around my neck

only then do you you release my legs, free my hands. i turn slightly and i feel it and hear it. the chain from my collar to the wall.

you're moving away, dropping a bowl of some gruel on the floor, next to another filled with a splash of water. the door closes heavily.

you speak to me though the slit in the metal door. "you are mine, whore. and it is just beginning." i shudder. I can feel the truth of it.